Hair about as dry as he could get it, he returned the towel to where he’d gotten it and leaned nonchalantly against the backof the sofa, arms crossed over his chest. “How about you tell me who you are before I go spilling all my family secrets? For all I know, you’re a burglar who broke in, stumbled across me in the shower, and came up with some sort of long con instead.”
“I’m a friend of Finn’s.”
“But not my brother?”
How to answer that? “Erm…”
“Because if you said no, you’d immediately go up in my estimation. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, and all that.”
“Your brother is your enemy?” Even as I asked, I remembered the phone call I’d overheard Cillian having with this man. The one where he’d sounded like he was at the end of his tether.
“My brother and I have something of a fractious relationship.”
“Why?”
“Many reasons.”
“Such as?” I was pushing, but I was genuinely curious.
He sighed. “The age gap between us.”
“Plenty of siblings have an age gap and get along just fine.”
“My lack of ambition, according to him. At my age, he’d already started his business. He can’t reconcile with me not really knowing what I want to do with my life. He even suggested once that I—”he executed a mock shudder—”come and work for him.”
“And what did you say?”
“I don’t remember.” The twinkle in his eye told that for an out and out lie. I stared him down until he relented. “I said something along the lines of preferring to stick a red-hot poker in both eyes than spend every single day working regimented hours alongside him.”
“I bet he loved that.”
A smile tugged at Cormac’s mouth. “He called me an ungrateful something or other. And don’t ask me what, because I stopped listening after the first five minutes of him ranting.Experience has taught me that’s the best way of handling him.” He levered himself away from the sofa and headed for the kitchen, apparently in no rush to put some clothes on. “I was just going to make a coffee. D’ya want one?”
I followed him into the kitchen. “If you’re making one, I wouldn’t say no.”
He pointed a mug at me. “Your English is excellent, by the way.”
“Thank you.” I watched him for a moment as he switched his focus to making coffee. “If you and your brother don’t get on, then why are you here?”
He lifted his head to give me a lazy grin. Cormac smiled a lot. Far more than his brother did. I suspected the differences between them were going to form a long and varied list if our acquaintance lasted any length of time. He deliberately looked left, and then right. “Do you see him?”
“No… He’s in Dubai for another ten days.”
“Exactly. And if I’d left before they got back, no one would have been any the wiser.” He peered up at me from beneath his fringe. “I didn’t account for a complete stranger with a key.”
“You thought Quasimodo was going to take care of himself?”
He stared at me. “I’m guessing Quasimodo is the cat?” He waited for my nod. “Yeah, that came as quite the surprise. Especially when I arrived late, couldn’t find the light switch, and felt something rubbing up against me in the dark.” He waggled his eyebrows. “And not in a good way.” He poured boiling water into the mugs. “I think he thought I was Cillian. I get that a lot.”
“I thought you were Cillian,” I admitted as he passed a mug across. “In the shower, I mean.”
He regarded me over the rim of the mug he’d just taken a sip from, Cormac not the type to let a little thing like burning his mouth hold him back from enjoying his coffee. “How often doyou stare at my brother in the shower, and doesn’t Finn have anything to say about it?”
“Never.” He raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “Really. I’d rather…”
“Stick a red-hot poker in your eye?” he offered with a smirk when I struggled for words.
“Yeah.”
